Giving In
by KoolJack1
Summary: Cuddy and Wilson do their best to keep House off Vicodin after his return from Mayfield. Which one can't stand to see him suffer and gives in? SLASH


House fidgeted in his seat, fingers tapping rhythmically atop his cane.

"If you look here on page five, Dr. House a similar incident-" She glanced down at page five for barely a second before her eyes were distracted by the way his good leg jumped up and down a few inches from hers. She resisted the urge to rest her hand on it, unsure if it was to still it or ease his anxiety. "Dr. Cuddy?"

Her head snapped back up, "I'm sorry?" The board members exchanged glances.

"You are aware that he has had three different incidents regarding his bedside manner in the past month?"

She stared at them for a minute, resisting the urge to look at House again. She could practically feel his heart beating faster, harder. Since House's return from Mayfield, he'd been nothing but restless and irritable. Withdrawal symptoms had long passed, but at least when House was throwing up and screaming she knew what to do. He was irritable before this, but now he was down right intolerable. Snapping at patients was normal, his behavior now was at a new level, even for him. He was even strangely paranoid and twitchy. Not to mention physical contact, that was completely off limits.

"Yes, I am aware," _it's my_ fault, "I am docking a week of pay and assigning a doctor to supervise all of his interaction with his patients until further notice."

House was eerily silent, but he never said much these days. In fact, he rarely even spoke with anyone first. "Do you understand this, Dr. House?"

House's entire frame jolted, his eyes flickering to the door than to the men across the table. "Yes."

Cuddy's anger rose at the way the men looked at House. Lions cornering a zebra, she randomly thought of. House was a lot of things, he did a lot of things, but he wasn't in the state of mind to defend himself. House wasn't himself at all.

"One more complaint, and your employment at this hospital will be terminated," the man on the far left added. House said nothing, though the men looked like they were expecting some sort of reaction. An apology, regret, fear, anything. Instead, House's eyes fell back to stare at his shoes.

"The situation is under control now," she reassured them. They hesitated before nodding and writing on their notepads. Taking that as dismissal, she rose from her seat, "Thank you." She wasn't sure what she was thanking them for, but that was all she could muster up as she turned to watch as House slowly worked his way into the standing position. Without the Vicodin, he could barely put any weight on the damaged leg. He didn't look up as he hobbled towards the door, cane in hand. Cuddy peeked back over her shoulder as she held the door for him, surprised to see that the board members had sympathy in their eyes.

When it was time to go home, the elevator doors opened, Wilson was standing right outside them ready to go. They walked to Wilson's car, drove home, and went inside in complete silence. It remained silent until Wilson felt his stomach growl, "What do you want to eat Greg?"

Across the couch, House's body tightened at the use of his first name. Wilson waited patiently for him to look in his direction, and he kept his expression neutral while House pondered. "Soup."

Wilson made a face, but didn't comment. When the pain got too bad, House usually threw up. Soup came up nice and easy for him, so Wilson made it for him regularly. Wilson didn't argue, and he headed directly for the kitchen and the well stocked cabinet. He didn't bother asking House was soup he wanted, since he knew he wouldn't really taste it anyway. Wilson frowned into the pot on the stove, House was giving up. He couldn't believe it, but he was. Greg House was done living a life of pain. That was selfish, and certainly not okay. House lived his days making everyone else miserable, making everyone else love him even though he was a complete ass. He _loved_ House, and he was being fucking selfish.

He took the handle of the pot and moved the warm metal into the sink and stormed back into the living room. House's eyes barely flickered towards him, his hand persistantly rubbing his sore leg. Wilson wasn't sure if he wanted to yell or cry.

"House, I'll give you your God damned pills. This needs to end, you are completely shutting down." House flinched at the tone in his voice, his crystal blue eyes finally looking into his. Wilson couldn't remember the last time House made eye contact with him, yet he said nothing. "You are just giving up! No, actually, no you aren't. You aren't even trying! You're acting like a child, locking yourself away in your head until one of us breaks and you can gloat about how you knew it was going to be like that all along. Well House-"

"God damnit Wilson, I'm in fucking _pain."_ House finally burst, screaming. Wilson's jaw just hung open. "The pills make me see fucking dead people, they make me irritable, they keep me from sleeping, fuck I can't even get a hard on because of them. But they let me _walk_, or limp at least. They at least let me live my life in a moderate amount of pain instead of it getting so bad at times that I have to bite my tongue not to scream. I can barely stand, I'm completely fucking worthless, and you want me to _try?_ Try what exactly? Being normal and happy? It hurts to function, and you're angry I don't want to sit down and talk to you?"

Wilson just stared at him, swallowing all of his emotions. Face emotionless, he reached in his pocket and squeezed the bottle. He'd started carrying it around, since he'd considered giving in weeks ago. He took them out and looked down at them, the pills sounding like metal on metal. He threw them at House, a lot harder than he wanted to. House scrambled after them like a homeless man after some spare change. He popped the lid and swallowed them like a pro, and he moaned in relief. The noise went right through Wilson, and he shuddered. On auto pilot, he approached his friend. He wasn't gentle when he pulled his face up to find his lips. He bit the bottom one, and House made the noise again, his hands sliding into Wilson's pants. House never wasted time, that's what Wilson liked most about him. He left his lips to push his lips directly against House's ear. "We have to do this before you can't get it up again."

House swallowed roughly, it'd been so long since he'd been able to keep it up long enough to finish. Usually Wilson tried, and failed, a few times to keep him hard. So House just wound up jerking or sucking Wilson off, or on the occasions Wilson wanted to, fucking him while he laid there and tried to be still. Wilson leaned over him more, kissing his neck and moving to kneel between his legs. He removed his hand and let Wilson unzip his jeans. "Oh God," he moaned quietly at the warm mouth around him. Heart pounding, his dick twitched.

"Just let it happen, it's okay." Wilson whispered before continuing his work. House's leg was twitching in painful spasms suddenly, and he gasped at the mix of pain and pleasure. One hand tangled in Wilson's hair, the other gripped at his leg. Wilson's hand came up to grip House's hand on his thigh, and the gesture nearly brought tears to his eyes. His breath caught in his chest as a fire started in his destroyed muscle as he tried to push his hips forward. Wilson's hand slithered up his chest and pushed him back against the couch, which House could've easily fought, yet he relished in the security of having someone holding him still. Weird, since he hated being held down. He hated being controlled. His groin tightened and he sputtered at Wilson in warning, but his friend's head stayed down where it was. His release felt like no other before, and he felt complete. Wilson swallowed and House gave him a look of disgust, which Wilson laughed at. "It's really not that bad."

House shook his head, too tired to come up with a witty response. The pain was starting to numb, and House let his head fall back as the pills started to take effect. He felt the couch move as Wilson sat down, and House's body twitched as Wilson cuddled him. "Cuddy is going to kill me." Wilson stated grimly, his fingers playing with House's hair.

"Mhp," House replied, shutting his eyes in exhaustion. Constantly being in a level ten pain bore heavy on his mind as well as his body, and as the pain was now at a 7 and dropping, both decided it was time to shut down. His eyes twitched restlessly in an effort to stay awake, he hated sleeping with other people in the room. Wilson must of seen because he chuckled quietly.

"I'll stay right here, just like this, you don't have to worry," Wilson reassured, and House was too tired to not believe him.


End file.
